


there is an attempt to save christmas

by kendrasaunders



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Special, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 04:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9055978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kendrasaunders/pseuds/kendrasaunders
Summary: in a brief look in which richie forces the gecko-fullers to get into the holiday spirit. it goes as expected.





	

**Author's Note:**

> AHH I MADE IT IN TIME FOR DECEMBER 25th! Merry happy, everyone! May all your hands be golden and your flaming skulls be bright.

The first omen is Richard, bounding down the stairs sometime around 11AM, robe poorly tied in the front. 

“It’s still sunny out,” Seth says, and this offers no deterrence. 

“Seth,” Richie says, slamming his hand down on the bar counter. “ _Seth.”_

He knows the look on his brother’s face well enough to know he should probably leave the state right around now. “Richard.”

“I know we said we weren’t going to do Christmas shit, because this year has been-“

“Literal hell,” Seth says. “You went to actual hell, Richard.”

“I _know,”_ Richie says, half in a whine. “And I get it, I do, but Seth. Brother. I had a vision.”

“Oh,” Seth says. “No.”

“Yes!” Richie demands. “Buddy the Dentist came to me in a dream and said we have to celebrate Christmas.”

Seth remembers his steps for these sorts of things, for these moments of overwhelming Richardness, and so he takes a deep, deep breath, and says, “Are you out of your mind?”

“No, ass,” Richie says. “We established that like, three months ago? You were there? I was possessed?”

“Ah,” Seth says. “That time.”

“Yeah, dummy,” Richie says. “The point is, if we don’t celebrate Christmas, we’re letting Buddy down, we’re letting Santa down, and we’re probably letting Jesus down, if you think about it.”

“Richie,” Seth says, very carefully. “There is no Santa Claus. Or Jesus Christ. Or Buddy, who is- Is that the toy elf from the Rudolph movie?”

“He’s an elf by birth and a dentist by choice, respect his fucking life decisions, Seth,” Richie says. “And second of all, idiot, there was a Jesus, racist, and you’re letting him down by not celebrating Christmas.”

“Is that what the dentist elf told you?” Seth asks.

“Yes,” Richie says.

“Richard,” Seth says. “It’s December 20th.”

Richie grabs his brother’s wrist. “It’s never too late to Christmas, Seth,” Richie says.

“Fine,” Seth says. “Fucking- Fine, Richie. Do it. Just- Don’t burn the fucking bar down.”

“I MAKE NO PROMISES,” Richie yells, leaping over the bar and towards the back door, leading into the basement.

“Richard!”

“I need to find decorations!” Richie shouts back.

“You need to sleep!” Seth yells.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead, brother!”

“Richard!” Seth stares at the open basement door, and wonders if he should start drinking now, or wait until Richie comes back upstairs. “Richie, you are dead! Richard!”

 

—

 

“Okay,” Scott says, looking at his phone screen. “Why am I awake?”

“Because, ass,” Richard says. “It’s Christmas.”

“It’s December 20th,” Scott says. “And we all agreed we weren’t doing Christmas shit because you kidnapped me and my family at the beginning of this year and then got Kate killed.”

“Okay, first of all,” Richie says. “ _We_ got Kate killed. And secondly, Kate’s fine now. Right Kate?”

Kate blinks up at him. “Sure?”

“See?” Richie says. “Nobody likes a Scrooge, Scott. And if they did, that role’s already been taking by Seth. So shape the fuck up, kiddo.”

“Hear me out,” Scott says. “What if I just killed myself instead?”

“Nope,” Seth says, arms crossed. “If I’m living through this, you are too.”

“Come on,” Kate says. “It could be… fun? I mean, Mom was so sick last Christmas we barely got one, and Richie’s right- I am, you know, not dead.”

“See!” Richie tugs Kate towards him, picking her up in his arms. “Kate loves me more than both of you.”

“Why did you pick me up?” Kate asks.

“If you start making out with my sister in front of me, I’m going to throw up,” Scott says.

“Same,” Seth says.

“That goes for you too, ass,” Scott says.

Seth scoffs at him. “You’re the ass!”

“You’re both double asses,” Richie says. “Stop ruining Christmas!”

“It’s December 20th,” Scott and Seth counter.

“I don’t have to take this,” Richie says. “Come on, Kate.”

“Are you going to put me down?” Kate asks. 

“Eh,” Richie says.

“I hate him,” Scott says. “I really do.”

“I hate everyone,” Seth says. “Merry Shitscram.”

Scott kicks him in the leg.

 

—

 

Richie rejoins them in the bar area not twenty minutes later, carrying a taped box that reads CAUTION on the side. Kate carries nothing, and spends a good minute trying to rebutton her shirt without anybody noticing. They notice.

“There’s so many of these in the basement,” Richie says, placing it on the nearest table. “I mean, Malvado did run a restaurant. So one of these has to be Christmas decorations for that, right?”

“No, Richard,” Seth says. “Not right.”

“If something jumps out of that box and tries to kill you, I’m not stopping it,” Scott says.

“Oh my God, we get it,” Richie says. “You’re unhappy. Start day drinking like the rest of us.”

Scott blinks and at him. “That is endemic of so many greater issues.”

“We don’t have time to address that,” Richie says. “Seth, give me your knife. I gotta open this.”

“Use your own knife!” Seth protests.

“I don’t keep one in my pajamas,” Richie says, like Seth is the idiot, here. “Give it.”

Seth tosses it to him, ignore Kate yelling, “Stop throwing weapons at each other!”

“It’s fine,” Richie says, flicking open the knife. “Totally safe.” He tears into the tape, pulling the box open with eager glee. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Seth says.

“Oh,” Richie repeats.

Seth takes a cautious step forward, and peeks into the box. “Jesus fucking Christ, Richard.”

“What?” Scott says. “Is it a head?”

“Not quite,” Seth says, as Scott joins them.

“That is-“ Scott takes a step back. “A box of human hands.”

“Moving human hands, Scott,” Seth says. “Let’s call it like we see it.”

“I think you guys are overreacting,” Richie says, pulling on of the hands out, holding it by the wrist. It wiggles it’s fingers at him, seemingly frustrated with being lifted out of its home. “They’re perfectly festive.”

“Dare I ask how?” Seth says.

“We could dip them in gold paint,” Richie says. “And then give them bells to ring.”

“I have a question,” Kate says. “If you’ve got an entire thing of like, enchanted hands, why just put them in storage? That seems like a waste.”

“Of both limbs, and magic!” Richie says.

“Richard,” Seth says. “We are not going to have a box of human hands be our Christmas display.”

“Well,” Richie says. “Not with that attitude.” 

“Put it back in the box,” Seth says. 

“I’m not putting it back in the box,” Richie says. “Look! Look at what good quality this hand is in!”

Seth leans away at about forty five degrees. “Get it away from my face.”

“Look at the hand!” Richie insists.

“I don’t want to look at the goddamn severed hand Richie!”

“You’re hurting its feelings!”

“Put it in the box, Richard!” 

Richie rests the hand on the table, frowning. “You are running Christmas.”

“Hey, idiots?” Scott says. “Your hand is escaping.”

And sure enough, the Christmas hand flees across the table, leaping onto a chair and then onto the floor. It scurries right on up to Kate, where it firmly wraps its hand around her ankle.

“Oh,” Kate says. “That’s new.”

“See!” Richie says. “He likes her!”

“It’s not a pet, Richard,” Seth says. “And we’re getting it back into the box of hands.”

Kate shakes her leg. “Yeah, he’s not budging,” she says. “That’s gonna be so weird tonight when I need to take my pants off to shower.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” Seth says. “For now, Richard is going to tape up this box and take it back downstairs. Aren’t you, Richard?” He looks to his side. “He ran off to the basement again while I was talking to Kate, didn’t he?”

“Yep,” Scott says.

“I hate Christmas,” Seth says. “I hate it so goddamn much.”

 

—

 

Following an approximate five more boxes, containing in order: An enchanted amulet, a magic lamp, a talking snake, a flaming skull, and what was counted to be four hundred sleeping bees, Seth thinks he hits what some, less experienced men may call a “breaking point.” 

“Richard,” he says. “If you insist, and I do mean fucking insist, on doing this nightmare holiday, then we are going to the store and we are just grabbing some fucking decorations.”

Richie holds box number six, letting out a huff as he puts it on the table. “You’re overreacting,” Richie says. “Because first of all, that talking snake was amazing-“

“It only spoke latin,” Scott says.

“Oh look at you, with your fancy latin-knowing education,” Richie says.

“And after you tried to put a Santa hat on the flaming skull-“ Seth continues.

“He liked it!” Richie insists.

“He started BLEEDING FROM THE EYE SOCKETS, RICHARD,” Seth says. “I don’t fuck with things that bleed from the eye sockets!”

“You’re ruining Christmas,” Richie says.

“You know what?” Seth says. “Fine. Fine. Fucking fine. Open that box, Richard. Last chance. If there’s some leftover weird shit in there, we’re going to the store.”

“Prepare to eat your words, dick,” Richie says, opening the box. “Oh.”

“What is it?” Seth says.

“It’s literally just Xibalba in there,” Richie says. “Look, I can stick my hand into the other side-“

Seth grabs his wrist. “Close the portal to hell, Richard.”

“Well,” Richie says. “I’m going to need packing tape.”

Scott pelts it at his head. 

“Thanks,” Richie says, taping the box back up. “So what’s the plan, brother? We gonna go buy a tree?”

“There’s not going to be any trees left,” Kate says. “Not real ones, anyway. People might still have the big blowup kind that you put in your front yard, though. You could put lights on that.”

“Why do you insist on encouraging this?” Seth asks.

“Because I like Christmas,” Kate says. “And I haven’t had one since- Forever, it seems like, so maybe I want to make one, and maybe Richie did find a box to hell, and maybe I can still hear that flaming skull’s voice in my head, but that’s not the point, Seth.”

“You can what now?” Seth asks.

“Focus,” Kate tells him. “The point is, Richie and I want to have Christmas, and you and Scott should be more helpful with it. Well. You should. Scott’s always kind of grinchy. It’s his thing.”

Scott shrugs.

Seth sighs, running his hand over his hair. “Okay. Sure. Okay. I can-“ He meets her gaze. “What’s the plan, Stan?”

“Well,” Kate says. “What do you guys usually eat on Christmas? What did Uncle Eddie make?” 

“Chinese food,” Richie and Seth say, at once.

“We could do that,” Kate says. “It’s easy.”

“Yeah, except there’s not a decent takeout place for miles around here,” Seth says. “It’s like living in hell.”

“No,” Richie says. “There was Chinese takeout in hell. Kate and I went out for moo shu pork before we came back.”

“Hilarious,” Seth says. “What did your mom used to make, Katie?”

“Everything,” Scott says. “Sometimes ham, sometimes a roast, potatoes, soup, I think there were tiny quiches one year?”

“I can’t even spell quiche,” Seth says.

“Yeah,” Richie says. “But how hard could it be to make a roast and some potatoes?”

“Well, that depends,” Kate says. “How many people are we having over?”

The brothers blink at her. “Oh my God,” Richie says. “She’s right.”

“Oh?” Seth says, voice two octaves higher than usual. “Is she?”

“We’ve got to invite the ranger and Kisa and-“ Richie pauses. “We don’t have a lot of friends.”

“No,” Seth says.

“But Freddie has Dakota and Margaret and Billie,” Kate says. “So that’s five people. Or four and a baby.”

“Babies are people too, racist,” Seth says.

“I will unlatch this hand from my ankle and throw it at you,” Kate says.

“Oh, shit,” Scott says. “I totally forgot that the hand was still there.”

“Yeah,” Kate says, lifting her leg. “We’re cool.”

“Kids,” Seth says, pleading.

“We’re having sex,” Kate says, wrinkling her nose.

“Fucking weirdo,” Scott adds.

“I have an idea,” Seth says. “What if I stuck my head in the oven and we have my dead ass for Christmas?”

“First of all,” Richie says. “I invented dark humor. I invented it. And second, you taste like shit, so no one is gonna want to eat you.”

“I taste fine,” Seth says.

“You probably taste like sadness,” Scott says.

“He does, actually,” Richie says. “And axe body spray.”

“Ew,” Kate adds.

“Okay,” Seth says. “Fuck all of you. I am going to the store, and I’m- Getting some fucking lights, or something. Scott, you’re with me. Richie and Kate can handle the- food issue.”

“Actually,” Richie says. “Kate and I are going to get the giant inflatable tree, and you guys go get tinsel and lights and shit.”

“Why us?” Kate says. “You think I just know people that sell giant novelty Christmas goods?”

Richie stares at her. “Well?”

Kate grumbles under her breath. “I’ll make a call.”

“Perfect,” Seth says. “Put a coat on, Scottie. You don’t want to burn up out there.”

“Don’t I?” Scott asks.

“I _invented_ it,” Richie hisses.

“Scott,” Seth pleads.

“Yeah, yeah,” Scott says. “I’ll get my coat.”

 

—

 

“Do you think they’ll be okay without us?” Scott asks, about fifteen minutes down the road. 

“Who?” Seth asks.

“Who?” Scott repeats. “Who the fuck else do we know? Richie and Kate.”

“Kid,” Seth says. “I don’t know how to break this to you, but I think Richie and Kate are probably going to get up to some adul-“

“Every day,” Scott interrupts. “Every day, I wish you were dead.”

“That’s fair,” Seth says.

“Do you have any idea where you’re going?” Scott asks.

“Sure,” Seth says. “There’s a uh- Holiday store around here, somewhere. Road turns into a strip mall and it’s right around the beginning. Near the Starbucks.”

“That Starbucks?” Scott says, as they zoom past.

“No,” Seth says. “Different Starbucks.”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Scott says. “There aren’t as many Starbucks as there usually are.”

“It was a differently shaped Starbucks,” Seth says, gesturing to the passenger window. “It had a drive through.”

“Actually,” Scott says. “We should go to a drive through Starbucks. I’m tired as balls.”

“Yeah,” Seth says. “Kind of a dick move to wake you up during the day, I guess?”

“You think?” Scott says.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Seth says. “You can get one of those fancy-ass drinks with the peppermint, or some shit.”

“Oh, shit,” Scott says. “I just realized something.”

“What?” Seth says.

“In about thirteen seconds, Richie is going to realize he hasn’t gotten my sister anything for Christmas yet.”

Seth white knuckles the steering wheel. “Oh, for the love of-“

And his phone goes off.

“You get it,” Seth says.

“I’m not getting it,” Scott says. “He’s your brother.”

“Fucking-“ Seth reaches into the cupholder and grabs his phone. He pointedly ignores the way Scott snickers at him when he flips his phone open. “Richard?”

“SETH YOU WILL NEVER BELIEVE WHAT I JUST REMEMBERED WE HAVE TO GET KATE EVERY PRESENT ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH AND-“

“Seth,” Scott says, tapping on the window. “That was the Starbucks.”

On the phone, Richie continues, “SHE NEEDS JEWELRY AND CLOTHES AND EXPENSIVE SOAPS AND FINE FRAGRANCES AND A PET CAT AND-“

“Get Kate a soap,” Seth says. “Got it.”

“And that’s the holiday store,” Scott says. “You really shouldn’t talk on the phone and drive.”

“AND SHE NEEDS A FRAMED PORTRAIT OF HER AND ME TOGETHER SO THAT SHE KNOWS I’M ALWAYS THINKING OF HER AND-“

“Richard,” Seth says. “I’m about to drive off the goddamn road, so I’m gonna have to call you back. Here’s Scott.”

“What?” Scott says, as Seth tosses the phone into his lap. “Fuck you, Seth.”

“SETH,” Richard yells. “SETH IF WE DON’T GET KATE PRESENTS SHE’LL LEAVE US FOR ANOTHER DUO.”

“She could be so lucky,” Scott mumbles. 

Seth gives him a look.

“Don’t watch me,” Scott says. “Watch the road watch the road watch the HOLY SHIT, SETH.”

“What?” Seth says. “You’ve never done a u-turn in seven lanes of traffic before?”

“Richie,” Scott says, to the phone in his lap. “We really have to call you back.” He flips the phone closed, glad his heart no longer beats so he can’t feel it pounding in his chest. “What the shit, Seth.”

“I have no idea what to get Kate for Christmas,” Seth says, suddenly. “Fuck.”

“Buy me a goddamn coffee,” Scott says.

Seth chuckles at that, and for a second, it’s just the roar of the road and the incoming traffic.

“You know that tree is gonna go up by like, the end of the day, right?” Scott says, finally.

“Have a little faith,” Seth says. “It could go up in like, a couple days. Three, even.”

“You in a betting mood?” Scott asks, with a wry grin.

Seth offers his left hand. “Call it fifty.”

“Calling it,” Scott says.

And for a moment, they kind of actually feel like siblings.

 

—

 

The inflatable tree is already in flames by the time they get back. Kate’s off to the side, supervising, surrounded by a plethora of half-gold, skittering hands.

“Richard,” Seth says, watching their driveway go up in flames. “Did you call the fire department?”

“Nah,” Richie says. “I think I’m just gonna let it burn out.”

Seth sighs from somewhere deep in his chest, trying to will his soul out of his body. “Call the fire department, Richard.”

“We got lights,” Scott offers, though he motions to Seth. “And tinsel.”

Seth finds his wallet. “You’re a shit, you know that, Scott?”

Scott grins at him, lit by the back burning inflatable tree and the smell of burning plastic. “Merry Christmas,” he says.

Seth slaps a $50 into his hand. “It’s December 20th.”


End file.
